


Flawless

by penny



Category: Baccano!
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, challenge: kinkfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-02
Updated: 2008-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:04:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tick and Luck have an arrangement to reach mutual satisfaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flawless

**Author's Note:**

> For the (IJ) kinkfest prompt _Baccano! - Luck/Tick - Blood Play - He found it fascinating how the blood sucked right back into him_

Luck's blood is rich and bright against his golden skin. It beads only a moment before it slides back in, before the wound closes, leaving flawless skin. But Luck still hisses with each cut, digs long, elegant fingers into the floor, knuckles white. And he still makes delightful, helpless noises in the back of his throat.

Tick traces an old scar on Luck's side, following the curve of Luck's rib. Tick remembers that wound, had sewn it up because the Gandors hadn't had a trustworthy doctor in their employ back then. They'd only had Tick. Someone who knows how to take people apart should also know how to put them together. It makes one more useful.

And Tick enjoys being useful. Almost as much as he enjoys this. He pushes, and Luck's skin gives, the scissors slide in, and he cuts, and oh, it's beautiful! The flesh resists, but steel is stronger, lets him cut clean to the bone.

Luck bites back a scream. He flinches, ruining the perfect line of the cut. But if Tick wanted perfection, he wouldn't be working with live subjects.

"Enough?" he asks, because even though Luck can handle anything Tick imagines, the boss deserves certain courtesies.

Luck meets his eyes. "For now."

Tick withdraws the scissors. Luck's blood quivers on the blades for a moment before sliding off. The wound's closing is almost too quick for Tick to follow -- one moment there's the clean cut, bright fresh blood, the white glint of bone, and then there's smooth, perfect flesh. And clean, oiled scissors. No evidence at all that Tick had ever cut. That's the one disappointment with these sessions.

He traces the line of Luck's hip. The blade leaves a thin red line that fades eye-blink fast. Luck shudders -- like a lover, Tick supposes -- and catches Tick's wrist before he can trail the open scissors up the length of Luck's hard cock.

"Too much?" It can't be, but it's polite to ask.

"Our agreement," Luck says coolly, tightening his grip, "is hands only for this part."

"Ah. Yes." That's right. Luck doesn't accept the scissors as an extension of his hands. Tick twists his wrist, and Luck lets go so he can set the scissors aside.

"What does it feel like when they close?" Luck's cock is smooth and firm in his hand. Tick enjoys this part too, because Luck makes the same kind of faces as when the scissors slide in. And if Tick doesn't look down, the hot spill of Luck's come feels like blood.

Luck thrusts up into his hand. "Like sex." He closes his eyes. "The first burn when you're forced open. Then it finishes, and it's -- fuck!"

"Sorry," Tick says, easing back on his nails, but only a bit, because Luck's squirming, his breath's ragged, and if anything, he's harder than before, and it's _nice_ seeing him like this, temples slick with sweat, hair disheveled. Luck is always clean and polished and perfect. Tick enjoys taking him apart.

Luck makes a noise halfway between a whine and a laugh. Then he tenses and comes, his face contorted in a grimace. Tick wonders if it actually hurts, or if it's like when he comes. The sensation is so intense that the only way the body can react is as if it's in pain.

But that's not a safe question to ask. It's too intimate. Luck's funny that way. As if slicing him open isn't intimate.

Tick shudders. Luck's come is warm on his fingers, and unlike blood, it doesn't slither back into a closing wound.

"Enough?" Luck asks, and though he's still breathing heavy, there's an undercurrent of laughter in his tone.

Tick smiles and wipes his hands clean. "For now."


End file.
